


a book elegantly bound

by AwkwardPotatoChild



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Correspondence, Epistolary, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Letters, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardPotatoChild/pseuds/AwkwardPotatoChild
Summary: Two idiots. One book series.or alternatively, Aziraphale and Crowley are united over their common love of books and the scheming of one Miss Anathema Device





	a book elegantly bound

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit. I can't believe I did this.
> 
> This originally wasn't supposed to happen, but well, here we are! My first Good Omens fic!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it because I had a lot of fun writing it! Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes. :]
> 
> **EDIT:** SOMEONE MADE FANART OF THE BOOKMARK! HOLY FUCK! MY FIRST PIECE OF FANART! GO CHECK IT OUT [HERE](https://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/post/189746134006/i-was-so-inspired-by-a-book-elegantly-bound-that) AND THANK YOU TO [DARNWAFFLES](https://darnwaffles.tumblr.com/) FOR THIS!

Mr. Aziraphale Z. Fell was a regular at the library.

He was a very regular man, afterall.

Aziraphale began every morning at precisely 7:15 AM. (His alarm was set to 7:00 AM, but he continues to hit snooze until 7:15 AM.) He then shuffles into his bathroom to clean up and prepare for the day. By 8:05 AM, he is out the door, greeting his neighbor, Penelope, as she passes by while walking her bulldog, which went by the name Sticky Toffee Pudding, but was called Pudding for short, and who is far too friendly to strangers. He then heads to the little French café, Café Ange, down the street, which he swears everyday will be his last visit since the amount of pastries he’s been eating can’t possibly be good for his health, but he will continue to do so anyway since the employees there are always so kind and will bring him out a fresh pain aux raisins along with his morning cuppa.

After that, his regular routine depended upon the day of the week. Monday through Friday, he arrived at his shop, A to Z Flower Co. (From A to Z, we’ve got all the flowers that you’ll ever need!) at precisely 8:40 AM. He then got prepped and ready for the day, opening at 9:00 AM (give or take a few minutes) and closing at 6 PM (maybe earlier, depending on how many customers he had seen), with a one-hour lunch break which he took at noon (and always at least an hour because you can’t rush good food.) On Saturdays, he opened at 10:00 AM, allowing him more time to read at the café, and on Sundays, he opened at the same time as Saturdays, but instead he uses that time to visit the library, so that he has something to read for his Saturday mornings at the café.

Since today was Sunday, Aziraphale found himself, once again, at the library. He walked in and inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar smell of worn pages. Each one filled with new adventures and worlds to carry him away, bringing him freedom from his normally monotonous routine. Aziraphale usually knew what book he wanted already, often asking his customers for suggestions when possible, but the previous week had been a slow one, so he lacked his usual options. Thankful, the answer to all his problems was seated behind the front desk.

“Good morning, Aziraphale.”

“Good morning, Anathema.” He bounded over to the desk, smiling brightly and hands clasped before him. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine. Thank you,” answered Anathema, smiling back. “And you?”

“Fine as well!”

“Anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes! I’m looking for something new to read, something exciting,” explained Aziraphale. “Something that I never would have even thought of reading.”

Anathema nodded and hummed. “Well,” she mused. “I do have this one book that was just returned. It’s part of a series, so if you like it, there’s more for you to read.”

Aziraphale watched as she leaned over to the cart behind her and pulled out a book from the middle. She gave a glance at the cover, nodding once she confirmed it was the right one, before handing it over to him and he inspected it with wide eyes.

“It’s by Agnes Nutter,” she explained as he read the summary on the inside. “Her books were only published recently, so she’s not that well known yet. But those that have read her stuff are ardent fans. I’ve been trying to get more people to read her work and I think you’ll very much enjoy what she’s written.”

“Well, it certainly sounds interesting,” said Aziraphale as he closed the book. “And of course, I trust your judgement, Anathema. I’ll start it as soon as possible and will be back with my thoughts for you.”

He handed his card over to her and she got him sorted out in a jiffy. He bid her farewell as usual and began making his way over to his shop, keys jingling in his pocket as he excitedly walked down the street. Aziraphale knew that he shouldn’t, but with the familiar form of the book in his hand, he couldn’t help but open it.

Just one page, he told himself. Just a bit of a teaser for what’s to come.

Still walking and with a bit of struggle, Aziraphale managed to open the book to the first page. However, in his jostling, as other fellow book readers will understand, the other pages flew open too, making him pause in his walk and readjust, but not before he noticed that something had fallen out from between the pages as well. First page forgotten, Aziraphale stared curiously at the ground before tucking the book under his arm and leaning down to pick up the fallen piece.

A bookmark?

Aziraphale turned it over in his hand, inspecting it carefully. It was covered in a random array of snakes and feathers and flames, some colored, some not, that all appeared to be hand drawn, judging from the occasional ink smudge. The only indicator of identification was a detailed drawing of a crow at the top carrying a letter ‘C’ in its beak. It was clear it was well-loved and cared for, and seeing it in his hands made Aziraphale’s heart ache. He carefully put in his inner breast pocket, patting it gently and silently wishing it well, before continuing off to work.

I hope I can help you find your way back home.

* * *

Mr. Anthony J. Crowley did not appear to look like the type to frequent the library.

He didn’t even seem the type to read, to be quite honest.

Crowley, as he was more commonly referred to as, seemed more like the type to burn them, really, or to use them as doorstops, maybe even to blow his nose, with no regard for the content inside of them. He seemed like the type to think books were stupid and useless and that the burning of the library of Alexandria wasn’t a big deal.

But that was not the case at all. Crowley did not like to burn books or use them as doorstops or maybe even use them to blow his nose. He did not think they were stupid and useless and he was, in fact, highly distressed about the burning of the library of Alexandria and thought that it was and still is a very _very_ big deal.

Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley did not adhere to a routine or pattern. His life was a mess, which suited him and his tattoo parlor, aptly named Pandæmonium, just fine. Customers weren’t a constant at the shop, obviously, and most people that came in had made appointments earlier or had called ahead. So most days, Crowley was left with a lot of extra time on his hands, which meant he had to find a way to fill it all.

Enter books, which Crowley thought were the most powerful weapon in the world.

His love for reading spawned from a fairly early age. Crowley did not come from the best of backgrounds, though it took him years to realize just how bad it was. It was through reading and learning that Crowley realized not only how trapped he was, but that there was a way for him to escape and that gave him hope. Books gave Crowley endless possibilities in situations that seemed empty and useless. The knowledge they gave him were the tools he armed himself with when he figured out how to leave, and they were what kept him safe and sane as he struggled to find his way to where he was now.

With that being said, while Crowley did not appear to be the type to frequent the library, he very much was, so it was no shock to Anathema when he came sauntering in like always.

“Good morning, Mr. Crowley.”

Crowley sneered at the greeting, but the smirk on Anathema’s face made it clear that not only was she teasing, she knew he meant no harm either.

“You know I hate that.”

Anathema laughed. “Good morning, Crowley.”

“Much better.”

Unknown to Aziraphale, exactly one week plus fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds before he was given the first book in the series by Agnes Nutter, Crowley had borrowed it for himself. He normally finished books at a much quicker rate, due to the fact that he had so much free time, but he ended up working on a number of back pieces this week (and he really had no clue why) that left him with little time to read his book. What normally only took a day or two, ended up taking the full week, which ended with him returning the book and checking out the next on Saturday, only to return on Sunday, which also happened to be the same day Aziraphale checked out the book, only two hours and eight minutes earlier.

“You’re back soon,” remarked Anathema, pausing in her typing. “Need the next one already?”

Crowley shook his head and came up to lean on the desk. “Nah, I haven’t even started it yet. Was going to today, but I noticed I lost something,” he said. “Just came by to ask if you or anyone had seen a bookmark. Got a bunch of little doodles on it, so it’s pretty clear that it’s mine. I might have left it in the book I returned yesterday. It’s not much, but I’m a bit attached to it.”

“No, not that I can recall,” she said as she rifled through the contents of the desk, turning over various books and papers, and even checking under the keyboard.

“Any chance I can check the other book to see if it’s in there?”

Anathema frowned. “I would if I could, Crowley,” she answered, “but it’s been checked out already. I can let you know when it gets returned or if it pops up again though.”

Crowley waved a hand and straightened back up. “Don’t bother. I’ll just make another,” he said as he began walking away. “I’ll see you when I finish up this one then.”

“Oh! Hold on!”

He stopped and turned around, an eyebrow raised behind his signature sunglasses. Anathema grabbed a small sheet of paper and a pen, holding it out to him.

“Here! Why don’t you leave a short note about your bookmark and all that? I’ll be sure to get it to the person who checked out the first book. I’m fairly certain they’ll be back for the next one.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and he carefully studied the young librarian. He took a moment and mentally debated what her motives were behind doing this before grabbing the objects in her hand and began scribbling down a quick note. When she took it from him, Anathema seemed to smile a bit too widely and he knew something was afoot, but that was another problem for another day.

* * *

Miss Anathema Device came from a long line of bibliophiles.

It all started with Agnes Nutter, one of Anathema’s great great great great great and probably more or so ancestors. As with many women of her time, she was called a witch by men and burned at the stake by men for no man wants to believe that a woman is not only capable of all the things that he can do, but that she can do even more. Though her time was relatively short (but also quite long, given her situation), Agnes managed to write a number of books before her untimely end. They were sadly never published because as mentioned earlier, she was a woman. But luckily, she managed to pass on the manuscripts to her daughter who then passed them on to her daughter and to her daughter and to her daughter and even more daughters, all hoping that the time would be right, until they finally reached Anathema.

Being of a better time and circumstances (though there is still much more work to be done), after reading all that Agnes wrote, Anathema knew it was with her that Agnes would finally get what she was owed years ago. Through a friend of a friend of a friend of a neighbor of a coworker’s, Anathema managed to get the book published and out to the world in the previous year. It’s popularity was still slowly growing, but Anathema had no doubt that Agnes and her book would soon become recognized for not only its content, but its story as well.

_The Epic and Perilous Misadventures of Two Star-Crossed Lovers Divided by the Divine Powers of the Universe: Heaven_ was certainly a mouthful of a title, but it was also definitely an eye-catching one and much better than her previous vague one-word title, which is exactly what Agnes had hoped for when she came up with it. It also saved her the trouble of having to come up with a summary for her book, which she said she was “absolutely shit at.” The second book’s title was not much shorter. In fact, it was nearly identical with the only difference being the last bit being titled _Hell_ , which was then followed by _Purgatory,_ and finally, _Paradise_.

Due to their long titles, the small group of fans of the saga have taken to referring to the books by these last bits instead and that is how we will refer to them from now on because even though one is not actively saying _The Epic and Perilous Misadventures of Two Star-Crossed Lovers Divided by the Divine Powers of the Universe: Heaven_ or _The Epic and Perilous Misadventures of Two Star-Crossed Lovers Divided by the Divine Powers of the Universe: Hell_ or _The Epic and Perilous Misadventures of Two Star-Crossed Lovers Divided by the Divine Powers of the Universe: Purgatory_ or _The Epic and Perilous Misadventures of Two Star-Crossed Lovers Divided by the Divine Powers of the Universe: Paradise_ out loud as they read, it still is a mouthful for the little voices in our minds to read (and while they did not exist back then, the author and Anathema apologize on behalf of Agnes to those who record audio versions of stories.)

It is no coincidence that both Aziraphale and Crowley ended up reading _Heaven_. The manuscripts were not the only thing that got passed down through Anathema’s family. After Agnes died, her love of books developed into a long line of librarians, starting with one of Anathema’s great ancestors. With how far back their history was, they all learned and honed their ability to read people, passing it on from librarian to librarian, until they reached the point where they could all immediately identify someone’s reading needs, whether they knew it for themselves or not.

So when Aziraphale walked in and asked for “something new to read, something exciting” and “something that I never would have even thought of reading,” Anathema already knew she was going to give him _Heaven_ to read before he had even asked. The same thing had happened the week before when Crowley came meandering in and asked for a surprise.

But what Anathema had not anticipated was her suddenly playing matchmaker (or friendship maker? She wasn’t really certain how this would turn out) to two seemingly opposite people who shared a common love.

As far back as Anathema could remember, both Aziraphale and Crowley were essentially workaholic busybodies, with the only other human interaction they received outside of their customers being with her. She chatted with them frequently enough to know that both of them really just had their shops to care for. Anathema knew from the books both of them read and what she had suggested, they longed for something more, something personal, something new to explore and learn. They both needed something else in their lives to bring them some change, so when the opportunity arose, Anathema saw it as her duty as a librarian and friend to introduce them to the new world of each other.

She only hoped that this would have a happy ending.

* * *

The next Sunday came and Aziraphale was even happier than usual when he showed up at the library that morning. Like Anathema had predicted, Aziraphale enjoyed the book greatly and he actually managed to finish the book by Wednesday, only to reread and finish it again by Saturday. He skipped into the library that bright morning, joy on his face as he came up to Anathema who was just as excited for his arrival.

“Good morning, Anathema!”

“Good morning, Aziraphale.” She took the first book from his hand. “I assume you liked it then?”

He nodded rapidly. Anathema smiled even brighter and turned around the cart behind her. She pulled out a book and Aziraphale’s face was practically the sun with how brightly he beamed when he saw the cover.

“Well, it just so happens that I have the second one right here.”

“Oh thank you, Anathema!”

“Of course,” she said with a giggle.

She then looked around cautiously, motioning for him to come closer. He did so with wide eyes and she held up a hand to stage whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but it was actually returned a few days ago and I’ve been keeping it hidden for you ever since.”

Aziraphale gasped. “How scandalous!”

The pair laughed heartily before Aziraphale remembered the time and started to pull out his library card. He was about to hand it over when she gasped and began searching through the desk.

“Oh hold on!” she said. “Before you go, the person that returned _Hell_ left a note for you.”

“A note?” Aziraphale’s head tilted to the side. “For me?” he said, pointing to himself. “Why?”

Anathema shrugged. She bit her lip, trying to keep from smiling, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not quite sure. They just left this with me when they returned _Hell_ and told me to make sure that this gets to you.”

Anathema offered the note to him and he took it, reading over it carefully.

> To whoever?
> 
> If you’re reading this, you have my bookmark. If not, then damn.  
> If you’re still reading this, I know I’m right to assume that you also read Heaven, which is why you’re now reading Hell. But if not, then that’s weird and you should go read the first book. But I’m not your boss, so I don’t give a fuck either.  
> I don’t know what else to say. Not many people read this series. Thought I was the only one, tbh, but I guess not. Was that part about the baby switching funny or what? Wonder when those idiots will finally realize they’re in love.

He flipped the note over.

> I don’t even know why I asked for your thoughts. I’m not even sure if you’d respond. I just don’t have anything better to do and Anathema made me do this.
> 
> C

Aziraphale continued to flip the note over and over in his hands, trying to process the message to the best of his abilities. It was enough of a shock that C had reached out to him for their bookmark, but for them to want to continue their correspondence as well made him feel giddy. Stuffing the note into his pocket, Aziraphale also began searching them for a pen, when Anathema, who had anticipated this already, held one out for him along with a sheet of paper to use as well. He thanked her and began writing.

> To C
> 
> I hope this note finds you well. I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that I do, indeed, have your bookmark, and it’s a very lovely bookmark, if I do say so myself. I’ll be sure to keep it safe for you until we can find a way for it to return to you.  
> In regards to Heaven, I did find the baby switching very amusing. I certainly hope that things end up alright though. I do agree that the main characters are rather foolish, but then again, aren’t we all? I look forward to reading Hell, so that I may discuss it with you as well.
> 
> Sincerely, A

Satisfied, Aziraphale handed the note over to Anathema. She carefully put it away and checked him out, letting him go on his way. The week before, Aziraphale thought he had been excited about reading his book, but he now realized that it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Getting a note from C was unexpected, but the fact that they wanted to continue and speak with him about the book made him feel like he was soaring. Though he was friendly with many people, Aziraphale didn’t feel as if he had many people he could call his friends, let alone anyone to discuss books with. He really only had his shop, his plants, and one of the few people that he saw during his regular routine. If you asked, Aziraphale wasn’t necessarily bored with his life, but the sudden change was not unwelcome. He had always been excited to start new books before, but it was nothing compared to now and it was nothing compared to how much he looked forward to C’s next note. Though he knew nothing of C, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel as if he found someone who was looking for change, much like how he was, and he hoped that he could provide them with as much joy as they did for him.

* * *

A few days later, on Wednesday at 2:24 PM, Crowley returned to the library with a finished book in hand. He had nothing scheduled until Friday, which gave him ample time to finish up the book and return it, since contrary to popular belief once again, Crowley was never the type to accrue late fees or missing books. He handed _Purgatory_ over to Anathema, who then gave him a note in exchange. He eyed it curiously, but Anathema only shrugged, causing him to roll his eyes before reading it.

To be honest, Crowley truly hadn’t expected A to respond to him at all. He really thought his bookmark was lost and was in the process of making another one for himself between reading and work. But here he was, holding A’s response to him, rereading to make sure it was really there. It was obvious to him that this wasn’t some half-assed response either and A had taken the time to write out a proper response to him. This fact made him feel odd inside, particularly in his chest, but Crowley assumed that was due to indigestion since he had scarfed down lunch only about an hour or so earlier.

With a sigh and thoughts of the sandwich he ate earlier, Crowley wrote his next note to A.

> A
> 
> So thoughts on Hell?  
> That was a weird thing to write, but whatever. Thoughts? That Gabriel dude is a dick. Who the hell does he think he is? He’s just a fat dick.  
> The whole nanny scene was great though. Same with the history.  
> Also, who the hell agrees to name their kid Warlock? Kid’s done nothing wrong and now he has to suffer for the rest of his life.  
> Let me know what you think of Purgatory.
> 
> C

Satisfied, Crowley handed it over to Anathema, who reassured him that it would reach its intended destination. He scoffed and shrugged it off as he walked away, but deep down, Crowley was glad for the reassurance.

* * *

Another Sunday, another note. This time, about _Hell_ as Aziraphale exchanged it for _Purgatory_. He read over it quickly, nearly ripping it from Anathema’s hands when she offered it. He didn’t bother to wait for her to give him a pen and paper, grabbing them off the desk, and really, she didn’t mind either.

> To C
> 
> I hope this note finds you well once again. As you mentioned, I do agree that Gabriel is certainly not the most agreeable of characters. I also quite like the history parts as well. It’s interesting to see just how far back their relationship went, but also to see how close they’ve become over all those years. I cannot wait to get started on Purgatory.
> 
> Sincerely, A

Aziraphale ran off after that, nearly forgetting his library card in the process if it weren’t for Anathema chasing him down the street. He thanked the librarian and made a mental note to pick up something for her at the café tomorrow before going off to read _Purgatory_.

* * *

Crowley came on Thursday this time. He had several appointments scheduled from last month, so the first half of the week had been heavy causing him to end up (foolishly?) binging all of _Paradise_ in one night. If anyone asked, he had no regrets, but his body would disagree.

> A
> 
> Purgatory suits its name. A bit laggy for my taste, but necessary. I like the witches though. Kinda weird seeing this kid that’s supposed to be the spawn of Satan act so normal, but nature vs nurture is interesting. Makes you wonder how differently you could’ve ended up under other circumstances. Paradise is an adventure. Look forward to it.
> 
> C

Crowley finished the note with a flourish and was in the process of handing it over to Anathema, when he froze, hand tightening around the slip as the young librarian tried to take it. His brow furrowed as she continued to tug before he let it go, the feeling of the paper still lingering like how he was now.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Crowley?”

He said nothing.

She nodded softly before turning around and reaching for a familiar book on the cart behind her. “I felt the same way when I finished,” said Anathema. “I actually went back and reread the whole series, and I found a lot of details that I missed on the first read through. Maybe you’d like to do the same?”

Anathema held the book out to Crowley and she watched his reaction carefully. For a moment, she was worried he was glaring at her from behind his dark sunglasses, but instead, he shook his head, turning away. He left without saying anything and she hoped that wasn’t an ominous sign.

* * *

Aziraphale smiled as he read the latest note from C, but it quickly dropped when he realized that if he was now reading _Paradise_ , that would mean that C had already read it, which means that C was already done with the series, which means that this was their last note. While Anathema was their messenger, that didn’t ensure that C would ever be back for anything else from the library and Aziraphale certainly didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness and ask either.

He hadn’t realized it, but somewhere along the way, C’s presence and notes became an integral part of Aziraphale’s life. He wouldn’t call his life boring and he certainly wouldn’t say that he wasn’t happy, but C brought a change for him, something to look forward to during his week, something new to excite him. C gave Aziraphale what he hoped his books would give to him and while Aziraphale couldn’t speak for C, if anyone asked, he most certainly would consider C his friend and it wasn’t until now that he realized how much emptier his life would be without a few scribbled lines. The thought of the two of them no longer being in contact made Aziraphale’s heart wilt.

“Is something wrong, Aziraphale?”

He shook his head and looked up to see Anathema’s concerned expression. “What? No!” he said quickly. “No, everything’s fine. Everything is perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes! Absolutely! Just fine, Anathema. Just fine.” Anathema pulled back slightly and Aziraphale gave an apology for having raised his voice. She nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue. “I, uh, I don’t think I’ll be leaving a note this time around.”

“Oh,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to?”

“Yes, thank you.” He picked up the book and took back his card. “I’ll just be going now.”

Aziraphale hurried out of the library, practically running to his shop and missing Anathema bidding him a good day. For once, he was in no hurry to finish his book, all too thankful for the fact that someone was already waiting outside his shop.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Aziraphale and Crowley, Anathema had foreseen this predicament and had worked out her plan already. She knew, of course, that Crowley was reading ahead of Aziraphale. She also knew that Aziraphale showed up at the exact same time and day each week, which meant that she also knew that Crowley stuck to no set schedule, which meant she had to find a way for them to meet up at the exact same time. Her suggesting Crowley reread the series was no coincidence and something she planned to do from the beginning as a way to keep Crowley coming to the library. Him rejecting her offer had been disappointing, but not the end of her plans.

Anathema luckily knew them both well enough that she was able to figure out how to get the two to meet before they were even aware of the other’s presence. She wouldn’t say she had been scheming from the very beginning, but she was and as Anathema picked up the phone on her desk, she was all too excited for the last step of her plan to finally go into action, ensuring without a doubt that Aziraphale and Crowley would finally meet.

“Oh, Crowley, it’s me, Anathema. I’m not quite sure of what’s going on, but it says in the system that you have a late fee. I know you would never forget to turn in your books, but would it be possible for you to come by and we could sort it all out? Maybe Sunday morning? It tends to be slower at that time, so it won’t be as much of a bother for either of us.”

* * *

When the next Sunday came, Aziraphale found himself moving slower than usual. He hit snooze on his alarm four times, instead of three. He missed seeing Penelope and Pudding. He did not get his daily cuppa and pain aux raisins. He arrived at the library, late and lethargic. He lazily pulled out the book from under his arms, setting it in front of Anathema. He did not greet her.

“Are you doing alright, Aziraphale?” Anathema asked. “You had me worried the last time we saw each other and you’re not looking much better this week either.”

Aziraphale forced a smile onto his face. “I’m fine, Anathema. Thank you for asking,” he said. “Just a bit tired. Had lots of orders to get through this week and all that.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Well, I hope things turn out better for you this week.”

Aziraphale remained silent, but his hands worried themselves ceaselessly. For the entirety of the week, his mind kept on lingering on C and the notes. It wasn’t until after he left that he realized his mistake and that he should have at least written something, even if it took forever for it to arrive. It didn’t take long after that for him to realize that he had been afraid of what was to come. C had given him the excitement that he was looking for in his life and with the notes coming to an end, Aziraphale unconsciously realized that would either lead to the end of their correspondence or the transition to meeting in real life. An end to the letters meant the end to a momentary adventure, one that Aziraphale wasn’t ready to give up on just yet. However, meeting each other in real life brought along many worries too. At the end of the day, he and C didn’t really know who each other were. They may bond over books, but that didn’t mean they would have anything else in common or if they would even get along. It’s very possible that C would take one look at Aziraphale and be completely repulsed by what he saw, and that terrified him greatly.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Aziraphale?”

He startled, bring himself back to reality. “Oh. I, um, what? I mean, no, I’m fine. I’m fine, Anathema. Thank you for asking,” he stuttered.

He nodded rapidly, forcing another smile onto his face, and Anathema backed off, but her eyes were wary. His fake smile soon fell like his shoulders as he finally sighed. “Actually, I, uh, I was wondering,” he shook his head, “I know I didn’t leave a note last week, but I was wondering if…”

“If?”

“If there was...anything for me. Like a note maybe?”

Anathema’s eyes grew wide in understanding and she nodded slowly. “Well-”

“Anathema, I can’t believe you made me come here before noon.”

Aziraphale immediately turned towards the stranger that just came barging in, shocked by both his entrance and his appearance. He was clad in a leather jacket, with boots and dark sunglasses to match. Though his arms were covered, Aziraphale could still make out the edges of various tattoos peeking out from beneath the collar of his red shirt and the sleeves of his jacket, leaving no doubt that he was covered with art. He was the complete opposite of Aziraphale, who looked more suited for a garden party with the Queen, and he couldn't help but stare, mouth agape, as the stranger came to stand next to him. Anathema, on the other hand, was unsurprised and perked up the moment he arrived, practically shaking with excitement.

“Oh! Mr. Crowley!” she greeted. “We were just talking about you!”

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow and turned to her. “We were?”

“You know I hate when you call me,” Crowley responded on reflex, “and were you now? All bad, I’m assuming.”

Anathema shook her head. “Aziraphale, I believe you have something of Crowley’s.”

“I do?” he asked turning back to her. She mimed opening and closing a book, and then placed something between the invisible pages. “Oh!” he exclaimed, now excited as well. “Yes, I do!”

It was Crowley’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he watched Aziraphale fumble through his jacket pockets, turning all about. He finally managed to remember where he had put the bookmark and pulled it out dramatically, presenting it to Crowley with a bright smile.

“Oh hey, my bookmark,” Crowley said as he took it. “Didn’t expect to actually get this back. Thanks.”

“O-of course! I made sure to keep it safe for you...C? Or should I call you Crowley now?”

Crowley looked up, an intrigued expression on his face. He eyed Aziraphale, studying him and making him fidget beneath his gaze.

“So you’re the one I’ve been talking to,” he said after a moment. “Been wondering when we’d finally get to meet.”

“You were?”

Crowley hummed, turning the bookmark in his hands before shoving it into his back pocket. He looked Aziraphale up and down again before shrugging. “You look like how I expected.”

Aziraphale’s smile dropped. “Excuse me,” he huffed. “Now, what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing bad, angel,” Crowley said dismissively. “Just that you look...nice.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked away, face growing warm. “Thank you. You’re...not too bad either.”

Crowley snorted. “Alright. No need to force yourself.” He looked down at his watch. “I gotta get going, but if you have a note for me or if you want to continue our conversation elsewhere, I don’t have anything going on tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow? Evening?”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be wanting to talk about _Paradise_. We can meet here, if you’re worried I’m some sort of serial killer. Anathema can make sure I don’t curse you or something.”

They turned to Anathema who gave a wave. Aziraphale turned back to Crowley, heart beating wildly. As mentioned earlier, he hadn’t planned for this outcome to occur, so he found himself speechless, mind jumbled with a mélange of thoughts

“I, uh, I, um, I, well, I would, no, I, uh, I don’t know, I, um, I-”

“If you don’t want to, you can just say no,” interrupted Crowley. “It won’t hurt my feelings. I’m sure a man like you is busy anyway.”

“No, no, no!” Aziraphale cut in this time. “I’m not rejecting your offer. It’s just that I,” he took a deep breath, “I would very much like to meet with you here tomorrow evening, Crowley,” he declared. “I would like that very much.”

The corners of Crowley’s eyes wrinkled, as did his lips. Aziraphale mirrored the action, releasing a small sigh as well.

“Great,” Crowley said. “See you then, angel.” He began to turn around and walk away. He was midway to the door when he suddenly made a strange squawk and turned back around. “Ah, wait a minute.” He walked back towards the desk, leaning a hip on it. “Anathema, what’s this I hear about an overdue book?”

“Oh, sorry about that, Crowley,” replied the librarian. Something in her tone made him frown, but she ignored it and continued on. “I think one of the assistants made a mistake. I got it all sorted out just before you arrived.”

“A mistake?”

Anathema nodded.

“Uh huh. Sure, you little witch. Sure.”

Crowley pushed himself off the desk and made his way back out again. He didn’t turn around this time, but Aziraphale watched as he sauntered out.

“Remember! Tomorrow. Evening. Here,” he called out behind him as he disappeared.

Aziraphale stood frozen, staring at the place where Crowley had just been moments again. He was suddenly very aware of his heart beating in his chest and he placed a hand over it. He could feel it blossoming more and more with every beat, and a dopey smile took roots on his face.

“Ahem!”

“Oh!”

He jumped and turned to see Anathema watching him with an amused smirk. He felt himself somehow growing even redder and gave her a nod before gesturing to the door.

“I, uh, I better get going then,” he said as he began walking out. “I hope you have a good day, Anathema.”

“You too, Aziraphale.”

Anathema watched as Aziraphale hurried out of the library and once he was gone, she immediately got up and did a little dance, celebrating the success of her plan. She finally sat back down, letting out a relieved chuckle before going back to work, thinking about how she would get ready for tomorrow evening. She had worried, of course, about how this would all end. As a bibliophile, Anathema had read more than enough tragic endings to realize that this story had the potential to end the same way (and some might even say that a tragic ending would have made for a better story.) Thankfully for Anathema, that did not appear to be the case and while not quite as epic or perilous, the two divided star-crossed ~~lovers~~ readers _did_ get the adventure that they craved and were able to reach paradise in the end.

But truthfully, in Anathema’s opinion, while a happy ending may be cliché, it does not mean that it is a bad one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this!  
> If possible, it would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog or like this fic's corresponding tumblr post, found [here. ](https://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/post/186409138601/a-book-elegantly-bound)[dangcommaannie.tumblr.com](http://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/)  
> [Updates](http://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/tagged/annie-writes-updates)  
> 


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